“I’m here to see my wife,” Lin said, “Vera Mae Lin, she’s expecting me.”
“The patients who are expecting visitors will be through in a moment,” the man said, “you can take a seat at one of the tables while you wait.”
Lin picked the table closest to the window. It was raining quite heavily outside. While he waited he looked around the room and realised how devoid of character it was. White walls and a grey floor. How could anyone hope to get better in here, he thought. His thoughts were broken as a group of people shuffled into the room. They all looked the same in their hospital regulation white gowns and plastic socks. Lin stood up as he saw Vera Mae Lin enter the room. He smiled at her but she stared straight past him. In just a week, her appearance had changed dramatically; her face was a strange greyish white colour and she looked thinner. It was her eyes that startled him the most. There was none of the sparkle he remembered; there were just dead pools of black under sunken lids. Lin approached her and embraced her. She stiffened as she felt his arms around her. She smelled of disinfectant. He pulled out a chair for her and she sat down.
“How are they treating you?” Lin asked.
A glimmer of recognition appeared in her eyes but she did not answer.
“They told me you’ll get used to the drugs after a while,” Lin said.
There was an eerie silence. Lin did not know what else to say.
“They make me feel so tired,” Vera Mae said eventually.”
Lin smiled.
“They will do at first,” he said, “but after a while you’ll get better.”
“I can’t think properly,” she said slowly, “There’s a white mist in front of my eyes the whole time and I’ve been sick most mornings.”
Lin took hold of her hand. It was cold.
“You’ve got me,” he said, “and I’ll be here every Wednesday until you get out. I promise.”
“I’m not a bad person am I?” she asked.
“Of course not. You shouldn’t even be in here; if it wasn’t for that Professor, you’d be at home with me right now.”
“I think I might be pregnant,”
Lin’s face dropped but just as quickly, it brightened and every inch of it was engulfed in a radiant glow.
“Pregnant?” Lin’s eyes were now glowing. “We’re going to have a baby?” he cried to a man sitting at the table across from them.
The man did not move; he had not moved since he had sat down.
“I said I might be pregnant,” Vera Mae said.
There was a hint of a smile on her face for the first time.
“You know Vera Mae,” Lin insisted, “we’re going to have a baby, little Chuck. It’ll be just like the song.”
“What song?”
“The one I always play. The one about growing old together and being happy. Maybe they’ll let you out early when they find out.”
“I’m tired,” Vera Mae said, “these stupid pills make me tired and I’m tired of this place already; I think I need to lie down and sleep for a while.”
“Yes,” Lin agreed, “you must rest and look after our little Chuck.”
FORTY SIX
RED RAG
Monday 4 January 2009
“They’re in the holding cells,” Chalmers said, “Bartlett’s scared shitless but Maude’s putting on a brave face.”
“This Maude character,” Smith said, “you said he has quite an impressive record, what’s he been inside for?”
“Robbery, breaking and entering, assault, GBH, you name it. He was up for manslaughter a while back but they couldn’t make it stick. Some scumbag lawyer got the sentence reduced.”
“Manslaughter?”
“Robbed an old woman a while back. He knocked her to the ground. She fell so hard that she broke her hip and she never recovered; she died later in hospital.”
Smith’s heart started to beat faster. He took a couple of deep breaths.
“Where did Whitton disappear to?” he said.
“She said she needed to check her e mails,” Chalmers replied, “why do you ask?”
“No reason sir. Would you mind if I had a quick word with this Maude guy?”
“You shouldn’t really, you’re personally involved.”
“Personally involved sir?”
“The burglary, he broke into your house.”
“I just thought if I asked him nicely, he might tell me where the rest of my stuff ended up.”
Chalmers scratched a scab on his nose.
“You’ve got five minutes,” he said.
There were five holding cells at the Police station. Over weekends they were normally full of drunkards and petty criminals but today, Steven Maude and John Bartlett had the place to themselves. Smith opened the door to the cell. He recognised Maude immediately.
“You,” he said to Bartlett, “Out! There’s an open cell at the end of the corridor. Sit there and wait until I’m finished.”
Bartlett looked terrified. He did as he was asked.
“Steven Maude,” Smith said when he was sure Bartlett was out of ear shot, “we meet again.”
Maude seemed confused.
“Do I know you?” he snarled.
“All in good time,” Smith replied, “you made the mistake of breaking into a Police Detective’s house. That was a stupid thing to do.”
“We didn’t know it was a copper’s house,” Maude insisted.
“Never mind that. You took some jewellery from me. Where is it?”
“Sold it,” Maude said immediately.
“I assumed that,” Smith said, “who did you sell it to?”
“What’s in it for me?”
“That will become apparent. Who did you sell it to?”
“There’s this Paki down on the West Hill Road. He owns a corner shop but that’s just a front for the other stuff he buys and sells.”
“Name.”
Smith’s heart started to beat even faster.
“I don’t know,” Maude said, “Muhammad or something.”
“You really don’t remember me do you?” Smith said.
“No,” Maude replied, “I don’t remember every pig I’ve been pulled by.”
“A good few years ago you robbed an old lady.”
“I robbed a good few old ladies in those days,” Maude shrugged his shoulders and a smug grin appeared on his face.
Smith was finding it hard to control himself.
“This old lady in particular,” he said, “you knocked to the ground and she broke her hip.”
Maude’s face changed. He seemed like he was deep in thought.
“The one who died?” he said.
“You got there in the end.” Smith was close to boiling point.
“What of it?” Maude said, “I didn’t mean to kill her. Even the court saw that. What’s this got to do with anything?”
“You don’t feel bad about it?”
Smith was ready to snap; his fists were clenched by his side.
“Why should I feel bad?” Maude said defiantly, “she was old; she would have died soon enough anyway.”
It was like showing a red rag to a bull. The first punch knocked Maude into the wall. He was stunned for a moment but quickly got up and assumed a defensive stance. Blood was flowing from a cut on his lip. He swung a punch but Smith blocked it and landed a right hook on Maude’s nose. A resounding crack could be heard.
“You’ve broken my bloody nose, you pig,” Maude cried, “you’re crazy. All I did was rob your house.”
“You killed my fucking Gran,” Smith screamed.
Maude’s eyes were filled with terror. Smith swung again and connected under Maude’s chin. He landed another blow on the cheekbone. Maude collapsed on the floor. Smith leaned over him and grabbed him by the hair. He continued to land blow after blow; he could not stop himself. He felt himself being pulled from behind. Four arms restrained him and pulled him backwards. Smith was exhausted; he fell to the ground and lay on the floor against the wall. Maude was making quiet whimpe
ring sounds in the corner.
“Smith!” Chalmers barked, “My office. Now! Somebody see to that mess in the corner. If he has to go to hospital, we’re all in deep shit.”
FORTY SEVEN
TOO LITTLE TOO LATE
Wednesday 17 August 2005
“You’re looking much better this week,” Lin said to his wife.
“I don’t feel so drowsy either,” Vera Mae said, “they said they’ve figured out the medication I need and it’s not as much as they thought at first.”
“How’s the morning sickness?”
“Bearable. I’m definitely pregnant; they did a proper test. That’s another reason they don’t want to drug me up too much.”
“Will they let you out early to have the baby?”
“I don’t know what will happen. I hope so. How are things going at work?”
“They’re laying people off. I don’t think there will be a Post Office in a few years. Nobody sends letters anymore, its all on computers now. A friend has offered me another job.”
“What kind of job?”
“Driving a taxi. It’s quite a fancy taxi company and they need more drivers. They pay well and the tips are great.”
“Are you going to take it? You can hardly drive.”
“I don’t think I’ll have much choice. It won’t take me long to learn and people will always need taxis. I’m seriously thinking about it. Anyway, enough about me, how are things going in here? Have you made any friends yet?”
“Not really, everybody is a bit strange. There are people here who have been here for years; this is the only life they know.”
“Another woman has come forward with information on Passman.” Lin said suddenly.
“What information?” Vera Mae’s eyes were shining.
“She said she used to work for him and he made her life hell too. She only came forward now because she found out he had been killed. I’ve spoken to your lawyer and he said she could have made a huge difference in the outcome of the case.”
“Can’t we still do something?”
“The lawyer said it was too little too late. He said that if you’d been sent to jail we could have appealed and you’d probably be at home now but something in the law states that a commitment order is almost impossible to change. There’s nothing we can do.”
“I’m sure they’ll let me out early to have the baby though.”
FORTY EIGHT
SUSPENDED
Monday 4 January 2009
“What the hell were you thinking of Smith?” Chalmers barked, “If that scumbag wants to, he can end your bloody career.”
“Sorry sir,” Smith said, “I just lost it.”
“Whitton told me about your Gran. I didn’t know.”
“That’s why I joined up sir.”
“And you’re a bloody good detective; now use that brain of yours to help me find a way out of this mess.”
“You and Bridge saw me sir,” Smith said, “You saw me beat the crap out of him. You’re both witnesses.”
“I didn’t see anything,” Chalmers insisted, “and I’ll make sure Bridge didn’t either but what about Maude’s mate?”
“John Bartlett,” Smith said, “he was in the holding cell at the end.”
“Then here’s the story we’re going to stick to. Our friend Maude thinks he’s in deep shit; he has a record but even so, with this burglary, he’s probably only looking at a few months or so. He’s not the brightest spark in the world so I’m going to trick him into agreeing to a sentence he would get anyway.”
“Thanks sir,” Smith said, “I appreciate it.”
“I’m not finished with you yet Smith. As of this minute, you’re officially on leave.”
“But sir,” Smith protested, “what about the Willow murder?”
“That one’s a dead end.”
Chalmers was serious.
“Forget about it,” he said, “Thompson was right all along, the husband did it. It’s always the husband, remember.”
“Something doesn’t feel right sir. We still don’t know why he did it.”
“Get out of my office before I change my mind. You’ve got two weeks owing, take it. Go somewhere nice, play with your dog, anything. Now piss off and tell Bridge to get in here.”
“Thanks sir,” Smith said, “I think.”
Two weeks, Smith thought as he closed Chalmers’ door behind him. What does someone do with two weeks off in the middle of winter? In Fremantle, this was the warmest time of the year. Smith knew immediately what he was going to do.
“What did the DI say sir?” Whitton asked as Smith walked through reception.
“He told me to piss off,” Smith replied with a wry smile, “he told me to piss off for two weeks.”
“Are you suspended?”
“Not officially,” Smith said, “I’m on leave.”
“What are you going to do for two weeks? What about the Willow murder?”
“That’ll have to wait until I get back. Right now, I’m going to do some private detective work of my own. Remember that guy at the Blues Club?”
“The White guy.”
“Whitey, yes. I’m going to find out what the hell he meant when he said my sister was still alive.”
“Do you need some help sir?”
“Thanks Whitton but I think I’ve abused enough of your time already.”
“I’m only a phone call away Sir,” Whitton said.
“I know Whitton,” Smith said, “but I think I need to do this one on my own.”
FORTY NINE
CHRISTMAS PRESENTS
Saturday 24 December 2005
“Mr Lin,” the sombre voice on the telephone said, “I’m afraid I need you to come to the hospital.”
“Is something wrong with Vera Mae?” Lin asked.
There was a pause on the line.
“Please Mr Lin,” the voice continued, “I’ll explain everything when you get here.”
Lin put down the phone, finished his tea and picked up his car keys. He looked over at the small Christmas tree in the corner of the room. There were two presents underneath it. One was labelled’ Vera Mae’ and the other, ‘Chuck’. Lin picked them up, put them inside his coat and left the house.
Lin drove carefully to the hospital; the roads had been gritted but it had snowed heavily and it was beginning to lay again. As he drove, he wondered what was wrong with Vera Mae. She had been upbeat the last few times he had visited; her belly was getting big and there was a strong possibility of her being discharged early to have the baby. Lin parked the car as close to the entrance of the hospital as possible. He got out, locked the car and walked quickly to the front of the building. Once inside, he shook the snow off and approached the reception desk. Nurse Hagen was sitting there looking through some papers.
“I got a call to come here urgently,” Lin said, “what’s wrong?”
Nurse Hagen could barely look him in the eye.
“Good afternoon,” she said sympathetically, “I’ll let Doctor Bushell know you’re here, please have a seat.”
“What’s wrong?” Lin repeated.
“The doctor will explain everything,” she said, “please have a seat.”
When Lin saw the expression on Doctor Bushell’s face he knew at once that something terrible had happened.
“Can I see my wife?” he said.
“Please Mr Lin,” Doctor Bushell said, “come through to my office.”
He led Lin to an office just down the corridor from reception. The office was furnished very grandly; a huge mahogany desk dominated the room, bookshelves lined one wall and various species of fish were displayed in frames on the other walls. Doctor Bushell was obviously a keen fisherman.
“Please sit down Mr Lin,” Doctor Bushell beckoned to one of the leather chairs.
“Is Vera Mae alright?” Lin asked, “You’ve got me worried. Is there something wrong with the baby?”
“I’m afraid there was an incident on Wednesday night,�
� Doctor Bushell began, “after visiting time.”
“What happened?” Lin asked.
“Vera Mae attacked another patient; she stuck a fork in the woman’s arm.”
“Why did she do that?”
“We don’t know. We had to sedate her. I’m afraid we had to get an expert to reassess her and he came to the conclusion that she is by no means fit to look after a baby.”
Lin took out the Christmas presents.
“Can I see her?” he asked, “I’ve got gifts for her and the baby, they might cheer her up a bit.”
Doctor Bushell took a deep breath.
“I’m sorry Mr Lin,” he said, “I’m afraid your wife died two hours ago.”
Lin felt sick. He could hear his own heart beat; it was beating quickly.
“What do you mean she died?” Lin said eventually, “How could you let that happen?”
“She died of a Cyclic Antidepressant overdose,” Doctor Bushell said gravely.
“Overdose?” Lin repeated, “You mean she killed herself?”
“I’m afraid so. A fellow patient was not taking her medication; she’d saved up two weeks of pills and Vera Mae took the lot.”
“What about the baby?”
“There was nothing we could do Mr Lin, Vera Mae’s body simply shut down.”
Lin stood up.
“Can I see her,” he said.
“Of course,” Doctor Bushell replied, “she’s in her room, I’ll come with you.”
“What was the name of the expert?” Lin asked.
“Expert?” Doctor Bushell was confused.
“The one who decided Vera Mae was not fit to look after a baby?”
“Just a Psychology Professor from the University.”
“What was his name?”
“Professor Willow,” Doctor Bushell replied.
FIFTY
CONSCIENCE
Tuesday 5 January 2009
White and White exporting owned a small flat above an Indian restaurant in Leicester city centre. David White had decided that this was as central as possible for distributing all over England and Wales. He had converted half the flat into a basic office with a phone, computer and a few small filing cabinets. He was busy finalising a contract with an antiques firm in Cardiff when Jason Smith had phoned. He was expecting the call but it still took him by surprise.
The York Trilogy: The First 3 DS Jason Smith Detective novels Page 20
